


Be Caught in a Commonplace Way

by still_lycoris



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Chance Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Morse has just got out of prison. He needs time to recover, to settle his mind.Being imprisoned by an alien and meeting a second alien is not exactly the rest he had planned.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21
Collections: Crossworks 2020





	Be Caught in a Commonplace Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelittlestbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestbird/gifts).



The quiet was helping, at least a little.

Morse was still jumping at shadows, a bit. He could admit it. Even though everything was fine now, he was out of prison and nobody had any vested interest in “silencing” him, things still weren’t normal in his mind. Things didn’t feel right. In particular, he had nightmares; strange disconnected sets of images that didn’t make much sense but were always disturbing.

So when he walked outside and found himself face-to-face with an alien, his first thought was just a slightly vague idea that it was just a follow-on from a nightmare.

It was tentacle- to-face, really. He wasn’t quite sure that the thing _had_ eyes but then, there hadn’t been much time to look. There had only been a dizzy moment before had seized him and lifted him and the world had seemed to shift horribly into a blur of white light and now he was in this cold room with no real idea of how he’d got there – except that there had been an alien. There had definitely been an alien. It was not a nightmare, it was real. And now he was here.

It was not a large room but not small either – if Morse had chosen to lie down on the floor, he would have had plenty of room to do so and room to spread his arms and legs out too. There was no furniture, no windows, no doors. The ceiling was seemingly miles up – or perhaps there was no ceiling. Morse couldn’t see anything up there except a faint white light that seemed to cover the whole top, obscuring anything useful after a certain point. The walls were a dull grey and uniformly smooth. Not much to go on.

It was rather like a prison.

Morse was on his third circuit when the woman arrived.

She appeared from the ceiling – sort of. It didn’t exactly look like she was being lowered but he couldn’t quite work out how else she had got there. He saw the faint curl of a tentacle around her waist but then it was gone and the woman was standing there, blinking.

“Okay,” she said. “Okaaaaaaaaaay. Wasn’t expecting _that_.”

“Are you all right?” Morse asked. “Do you need to sit down?”

She jerked round to look at him. She was dressed very strangely in a mish-mash of clothes that looked rather like they’d been thrown together. Not untidy exactly, but odd. Out of place. She had big, intelligent eyes and didn’t look at all like she needed to sit down, despite Morse’s suggestion. In fact, she smiled at him quite cheerfully as if this sort of meeting happened to her every day.

“Hello! Who are you then?”

“Morse,” he said

“Morse?” she repeated and he waited for her to ask for more but she didn’t. “Nice name. I’m the Doctor. Don’t suppose you know where we are, do you?”

“No. I arrived the same way you did, I think. Did you see the ... the ...?”

He couldn’t call it an alien. Not in front of her. It sounded too mad. She looked at him keenly and her expression became sympathetic.

“Your first alien then? Not the best start for you, that. They aren’t all so ... grabby. Or tentaclely. Quite a lot do have tentacles though. Quite popular sometimes, so I’m told. Depending on the tentacle anyway. Sorry, that’s a bit off-topic. You didn’t get a good look at it, did you? Might give me an idea of exactly what grabbed us.”

“You _know_ aliens then?” he asked, trying not to sound as though he didn’t believe her.

“Oh yes! I’m an expert!”

Morse wondered briefly if she was mad. He dismissed it. The _situation_ was absolutely mad but it was real and if it was real, it would be stupid to ignore someone who seemed to know what they were doing.

“It was blue,” he said, thinking about the tentacle. “Blue-ish, anyway. Like de-oxygenated blood looks under skin.”

“Good description!” the Doctor said. She was walking around the room, exactly the way Morse had done, except that she was holding something tube-shaped in her hand that was making a whining sound and glowing at the tip, running it up and down the walls as though she was scanning them – which Morse supposed she probably was.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” he said. “But exactly who are you?”

“Told you, I’m the Doctor! I travel around, take a look at things, you know. Explore. Get locked up. Don’t think this is the first time I’ve been locked up, no, been locked up loads, me and I always get out again! Usually helps if there’s a door though. There doesn’t seem to be a door ... ”

“No,” Morse said. “I couldn’t find one either. Though I didn’t have a ... tool.”

“Sonic screwdriver. Works better if there’s something to, well, sonic! Okay. No door. Or windows. Roof ... sort of out of reach. Right.”

She smiled brightly at Morse, the kind of smile which it was quite hard not to respond to. Morse couldn’t help thinking that it was being produced at this moment because the Doctor didn’t have any ideas about how to get out of their predicament.

“I don’t suppose this happens often?” he asked.

“Which part? Being locked up? All the time. Being locked up in windowless, doorless places without any real idea of how I got in? Not so often. Though it’s not ... unknown. Hm. Floor. Haven’t checked the floor.”

Morse crouched down and pressed his palms to the floor. He couldn’t imagine that there could be a trapdoor – it was as flat and featureless as the walls and anyway, the Doctor had come down, not up, which meant he also probably had – but it seemed sensible to try. The Doctor did the same, except she lay down and put her ear to it, then sat up again.

“I can’t feel any vibrations. I don’t think we’re on a space ship. Which narrows it down, I guess. Did you see anything helpful? Or, well, anything at all?”

“You appeared from ... about there. I don’t know quite where, it wasn’t ... ”

He took a deep breath. He was talking like an idiot. If he was going to help the Doctor, he needed to do this logically.

“You didn’t come from all the way down,” he said. “You appeared about three feet up, I’d say. But you were solid, you were just there. The tentacle was more translucent and it ... didn’t seem to end anywhere. I think that’s what happened to me but I don’t remember very well.”

“No ... that sounds like a trans-dimensional movement. Tends to leave everything a bit blurry though. You’re doing well, for someone having their first alien experience!”

Morse wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. He supposed that he ought to try and take it positively but it felt so unnatural. He looked up at the light-ceiling instead.

“At least you can see something that might be the sky. Makes it less like a prison.”

He regretted that comment immediately – what if she questioned it? But she didn’t. Instead, she smiled.

“Yeah. Not many open-topped prisons out there – well, not that I’ve found and I’ve been locked up a _lot_. You get used to it.”

Morse snorted. He couldn’t help it. The Doctor looked at him and tilted her head slightly.

“You disagree?”

“No. Well. If you say so. I wouldn’t know.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not helping now,” the Doctor said with a sigh. She put her sonic screwdriver back in her pocket and sat down on the floor, crossing her legs. “I’m a bit stumped on this one. Okay, okay ... let me think. You don’t have a pen, do you?”

Morse immediately handed her a pen. He always had a pen. You never knew when you might need one, even now. The Doctor looked at it.

“Nice pen. Not quite what I had in mind though. Might wreck the nib if I write on the walls with it. Sorry. Thanks though. You’re a prepared sort, aren’t you?”

“No. Not really.”

He sat down next to her, making sure there was a polite space between them. The Doctor looked at him.

“It’ll be okay!” she said. “I’ll think of something! And even if I didn’t, my friends will! I have the best people.”

Morse tried not to think about his own people. They certainly wouldn’t imagine that he’d been kidnapped by an alien. If he just disappeared out of their lives, they’d think he’d left without saying goodbye. That was unpleasant perhaps, but better than some alternatives. He’d had the time to think of a _lot_ of alternatives. All those scenarios and yet for some reason, he’d never thought of ending up in alien jail.

It made him laugh. The Doctor glanced at him.

“Oh. Not a good laugh. You doing all right? You need to scream or anything?”

“No, of course not!” he said, a little insulted. “I’m perfectly all right. It’s just ... new, that’s all. So. Does this happen a lot? Alien abduction? I always thought the people who talked about that were delusional.”

“Well, some aren’t right about it happening,” the Doctor said. “Most people who’ve actually been abducted don’t talk about it very much. And aliens quite often aren’t ... this is a bit weird, even for me. I don’t know why we’re here. Usually, there’s a _why_. If I can figure out the _why_ , it ... well, all right, it might not help that much but it’ll make me feel better.”

“I always thought that,” Morse said. “That knowing the answers helped fix it. It doesn’t always.”

She looked at him again.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Morse.”

“Morse. Morse. Have I heard that name?”

“I doubt it. I’m nobody special.”

“Hey, I know a lot of humans who’d have curled up in a ball and cried in here. Nothing necessarily wrong with that – bit annoying, that’s all. But you, you were scoping the place out, trying to get an idea, listening. That’s pretty special.”

If it had been anybody else, he might have thought it was a light flirtation. But he didn’t get that vibe from her at all. She was just saying something that she thought was true. It was strange but comforting.

“Where did it take you from?” the Doctor asked.

“Oxford.”

“Me too. That’s all right then. At least it’s not from other places. That would have been rubbish. Could have been looking for me, I suppose. But why take you first? Were you doing anything?”

“I wasn’t doing anything, I was just coming outside when this happened,” Morse said. “I’m assuming that it was just chance. But what’s the interest? Study? Experiments?”

“I suppose so, maybe ... but it’s not like they are, is it? Studying or experimenting. We’re just sitting in here. And let me tell you, back when – no, never mind, sorry, talking to myself. I wonder why it’s round?”

“Harder to climb up?” Morse suggested. “Nothing to get a purchase on if things are circular. It’s why towers are often circular and buckets.”

“Buckets ... _buckets!_ Oh, you’re _brilliant!_ ”

He blinked at her. He’d been speaking quite flippantly, not really thinking about it but now, the Doctor was grinning at him as though he’d solved the mystery.

“Buckets! Do you see? It’s a _bucket!_ A trans-dimensional bucket! It – the alien – it’s not meaning to do anything! It’s _rock-pooling!_ ”

“Rock ... pooling?”

“Rock pooling! You know? On the beach with a bucket and a net? You got into pool and scoop up the shrimp and crabs and things and look at them? Bit horrible if you’re a shrimp or a crab. We’re the shrimps! It’s just put us in here to look at us for a bit!”

Morse stared at her for a moment. He wasn’t quite sure that this was as soothing as the Doctor seemed to think it was. He hadn’t really done much rock-pooling – it simply wasn’t the kind of thing that his family had ever done. But the idea that there was some strange alien creature just looking down at him in a bucket was disconcerting to say the least. He wasn’t a specimen to be looked at. He wasn’t a creature to be prodded and poked and _studied_.

“What happens at the end?” he asked, trying not to sound angry.

“We get emptied back out again,” the Doctor said cheerfully. “It’ll be a bit but it’ll happen! We just have to wait. And probably expect more visitors, if it’s any good at rock-pooling anyway.”

She was right. Only a minute later, there was a flicker of light and then there was a woman standing there. She blinked at them and her mouth opened as though she was going to cry out in fear and automatically, Morse stepped out, holding out his hands.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m a policeman.”

He wasn’t, he supposed. But the woman looked so relieved to hear it, so comforted to hear a calm voice that he supposed he could take the part for a little while longer. 

*

By the end of it, there were twelve of them in the “bucket.” Morse and the Doctor moved throughout them all, reassuring them, telling them it would all be all right. Morse found that he took the ones who were scared and the Doctor took the ones who were angry and together, they were calming everybody down, keeping their “bucket” steady. The Doctor convinced a few people to start a word game, which was fairly entertaining. It was almost fun – if you ignored the idea that there was something watching them, anyway.

Morse found that hard to ignore. It amazed him that some of the people here seemed comforted by that knowledge, soothed by it. They were being _watched_. Perhaps even _judged_ by someone who had no right to judge them, no right to see them at all. He sympathised with the angry people, even if they were taking it out in the wrong place. It was outrageous.

But it was also something that he couldn’t do anything about.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was done. Morse felt that strange flipping feeling, everything blurred and he was standing by the lake again, blinking as a tentacle retreated and faded into nothingness.

It was enough to make him wonder if it had been some sort of hallucination. If he’d just gone mad because of all the stress. It didn’t seem utterly unlikely. He’d been watched and studied in prison by unknowable enemies – perhaps his brain had simply recreated that fear outside, only changed it to an unknowable alien. It seemed almost logical.

But when he put his hand in his pocket, he realised that his pen was gone and he knew that it had been real.

*

Two days later, someone knocked on his door.

“Here! Bought your pen back!”

She beamed at him and Morse couldn’t help smiling.

“How did you find me?”

“Oh, I have my ways. Besides, I remembered where I knew your name from so I kind of moved backwards. It’s a nice pen. Don’t worry by the way, I did a bit of research, found out what kind of alien it was and had a little word in the right ears. That won’t be happening around here again in a hurry, you can sure of that! All back to normal!”

He felt his mouth twitch. He couldn’t help it. He was beginning to think that “normal” didn’t exist any longer. It hadn’t even before this.

“You know, you’ll be all right,” the Doctor said and she suddenly sounded completely serious, more than she had at any point before. “I know. You don’t believe that. But it you will. Just let things happen and it’ll work out. I was so proud of you back there, you know and I remembered where I heard your name before. Do say hi to Lewis for me, won’t you?”

“Lewis?”

She smiled and tapped her nose.

“You’ll see. Take care!”

She walked away, heading towards a police box that was incongruously standing where it certainly hadn’t been the night before. Morse watched her go, wondering if he should chase after her. If he should try to learn more about the world that was suddenly stranger than he’d ever imagined it could be. Or if he should just do as she said, let it go and let things happen.

He considered a moment too long. The door of the police box clicked shut. A moment later, a strange sound began, almost a crying sound and the police box shimmered and faded into nothingness. Morse stared for a long moment at the empty space where it had been, trying to put it all together in his mind, trying to frame it all in a way that made sense. In the end, he found words, a verse.

“But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day, if your Snark be a Boojum! For then, you will softly and suddenly vanish away. And never be met with again.”

No matter what happened – no matter how bizarre and strange and twisted the world became – there were always words. Always a poet who had understood. Always music that could bring things back into perspective, if you really tried to find it.

He still didn't feel right. He still didn't know what he wanted. He wasn't sure that discovering aliens existed had helped with that – in fact, he was sure it had not. The knowledge that the universe contained other life was exhilerating, the knowledge the other life was watching them was not.

And yet, that night when he slept, he didn't have a nightmare for the first time since Blenheim Vale. It was as though meeting the Doctor had changed something, healed something that he didn't know needed healing. He had to be grateful for that, at least. And really, the world had always been filled with strange things that nobody could understand.

The Doctor was just one more.

**Author's Note:**

> The title and Morse's verse are both from Lewis Carroll's "The Hunting of the Snark."


End file.
